


All I Can

by GirlOnTheCouch



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Green Arrow - All Media Types
Genre: Bratva, Cinderella - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Felicity is a BAMF, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:45:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlOnTheCouch/pseuds/GirlOnTheCouch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cinderella-ish AU. Felicity works as a maid in the Queen Mansion and is niece to Raisa.<br/>Oliver returns from the island and neither of them realize what they are in for.</p><p>Also, This is unbeta'd, so while I appreciate and LOVE comments/critisism/kudos/etc, please keep it gentle. I'm doing my best, I promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return

The hot water both stung and soothed her hands. The tiny cuts that laced her knuckles and fingertips were irritated by the soap, but the warmth of the water eased the tenderness that rested in her bones. The water sloshed over the edge of the bucket as she stroked her hands through it in search for the rag. Ragged cloth brushed against her fingertips and she pulled the wet bundle out. Slowly she bent over the tile floor and started scrubbing at the fine white grout. Her knees bit into the unyielding tile and her back protested from bending over again, but she kept at it. The Queen mansion was beautiful and Felicity loved it, but white, grout on tile was a bitch to clean: It got dirty easily and was impossible to get back to the intended white after becoming stained.

 

Felicity had already gone through most of the house that day. She had adjusted chairs that were askew, dusted the banisters and anything and everything that didn’t seem to be practically gleaming. She had put away, sorted, washed, scrubbed, and thrown out all other miscellaneous items too. She had saved the kitchen tile for last. That tile made Felicity reconsider working in the Queen household every week she slaved over it. One glance at the smooth edge of the floor made her question just how much she needed the money the job offered and every week she remembered just how desperate she was and she found herself bent over the marble once again.

 

She worked over the floor until her sweatpants were soaked through from crawling across the damp expanse and her fingers trembled from the pressure of grinding the cloth against the sandy ridges of the grout. Finally, she declared herself finished and began to collect herself. She sat up slowly, but her back still cracked loudly in several places, like it was trying to vocally let her know just how angry it was at her from having forced it to hold that position for so long. She set the rag into the bucket and started to stand slowly, her knees protesting in a similar fashion.

 

Raisa walked through the back door of the kitchen as Felicity stood; she was carrying armfuls of groceries. She set some on the counter and gestured towards the garage for Felicity to grab more from the car. Felicity moved forward to do so, but Raisa stopped her. “ _Go change_ ” she said in Russian, pointing towards the door. Felicity went to her room and quickly peeled off her wet clothing and donned the uniform that the Queens had left for her. It was the same as Raisa’s in every way except there were far more stains on the white apron and a small rip in the shoulder, as Felicity still made far more mistakes than her aunt. Raisa gave off an atmosphere of ease and grace while working, but Felicity still struggled to keep up and was constantly slipping. Felicity had started wearing sweat pants and other clothes when doing more heavy duty work to prevent more accidents befalling her poor uniform.

 

She returned to the kitchen freshly dressed and started peeling the carrots that Raisa was pulling out of bags before chopping them up quickly to be set aside. After Raisa finished unpacking, she joined Felicity in peeling potatoes. It was a routine they knew well and had rehearsed over several evenings. They fell into a comfortable rhythm and began to relax.

 

The sound of light footsteps filled the air and Thea’s voice chimed: “Whatcha making?” she asked, moving over to steal a carrot. Raisa slapped her hand away, but smiled while she did so. “We are making beef stew tonight, Miss Thea” Raisa said lightheartedly. Thea smiled back at Raisa before looking at Felicity, “and what dessert are we having?” Thea asked, her eyes wide and pleading.

 

Felicity smiled and set down the knife that she was using before she turned to the fridge and pulled out the lemon poppy seed cake that she had been storing there. Thea groaned in appreciation and Felicity immediately started cutting a small slice for her. Thea always liked a little dessert early and Felicity didn’t have the heart to deny her. Thea sank into the fluffy cake and gave out a little moan. “This is amazing! Felicity you have to have some, your desserts are always fantastic, but seriously, you’ve outshined yourself” Thea said, enthusiasm pumping through her voice.

 

Thea always insisted that Felicity take some and Felicity always gave a small smile and shook her head. It wasn’t her place and even though she had been working for the Queens for two years, she didn’t have the comfort that Raisa seemed to have with them. Felicity still felt caught in the middle of being family and being an intruder. Of being part of their home and just being the help.

 

Felicity put the cake back into the fridge and resumed working on the stew when Moira bustled in. She was sweating through her normally spotless suit and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy with tears. Raisa dropped her peeler and immediately rushed over and started trying to sit her down, to get her to calm down. Felicity poured a cold glass of water and set it in front of the older Queen. Moira refused their help, pushing the glass away, and stumbled over to Thea, “We need to go to the hospital now!” She said, breathing heavily and speaking quickly. Thea stumbled back, worry heavy in her gaze.

 

“W-why? Is Walter hurt? What’s wrong? Mom, calm down” Thea said, her face twisting with anxiety.

 

“It’s your brother” Moira said, “He’s alive. Oliver’s alive”

***

A day had passed since they’d gotten the news. Raisa had cried tears of joy when Moira told them that Oliver was alive, but Felicity just felt anxious. She knew all about Oliver. She had even met him once when they were little and Raisa had brought her over to the Queen mansion for the first time. Felicity had also been told story upon story about him since she had started working there by both Thea and Raisa. Felicity felt familiar with Oliver, like he was some unknown friend. She knew his favorite color was- is- green, that he broke his arm 4 times before he graduated high school, that he loves mac n’ cheese, and that his family adored him before he “died”, even though he was a poster child for spoiled playboys. A part of her felt that she had mourned for him too, even though they had never really met. His ghost had haunted the halls of the Queen mansion, and Felicity often got the eerie feeling that his soul was trapped in the walls.

 

Now he’s back. The news is saying that he was on an island off the coast of China for five years, and now there’s going to be another person in the house, another factor. Another change.

 

Felicity sat on her plain, white bed and contemplated what his return would mean. She wondered how it would alter the steady dynamic that was in place in the Queen household. She wondered how he wanted his room cleaned and what his preferences were. She wondered what he would say when he saw her in the halls, if he would greet her like Thea or dismiss her as just household staff like Moira. She wondered if he was an early riser- that was important information to know, since she would probably end up making his bed and couldn’t bust into his room while he was still sleeping.

 

Felicity cast away her rapid thoughts and pulled out her laptop. It was the one she used for school and she had some projects that she needed to wrap up for her professor. She loved computers and was going to major in computer science, but it was hard to find time to set aside for classes and the work that came along with them and often she stayed up late trying to get everything done. Felicity was in the middle of wrapping up a project when there was a knock on the door. Raisa poked her head in and smiled at her. Felicity greeted her in Russian and she entered the room.

 

“Felicity, how is everything? Today was hectic and I didn’t get to talk to you. I know you’re graduating in a couple weeks and I want to make sure you feel prepared.” Raisa said, her voice sounding more motherly than anything her actual mother could muster.

 

Felicity smiled and patted a spot on the bed next to her for Raisa to sit down. Raisa moved over and sat, pulling Felicity in for a small hug. Felicity sighed into her shoulder, “Yes, everything is overwhelming right now, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m just about done here actually if you want to do something” she said, looking up at her aunt.

 

“Actually, I was thinking maybe you could help me. I want to make everything perfect for Oliver and I was thinking we could make a welcome home meal of sorts. He’s being driven home in a few hours, so I thought we could make him his favorites: lobster mac n’ cheese, steak, green beans, and hazelnut chocolate cupcakes; I just bought the ingredients” She said, her eyes lighting up. Felicity didn’t doubt she was thinking about seeing Oliver, as he was like a son to her. Making food with Raisa didn’t feel like work, like cleaning did. It was bonding time for them, almost therapeutic even, and she was glad to do it.

 

Felicity nodded, standing slowly, her body still protesting from earlier work. Raisa smirked at her, “I remember those days, it will get better” she said before turning to leave. Felicity considered changing out of her boxer shorts and tank top, but she looked at the clock and decided that she had a couple hours before Oliver and the rest of the Queens would be coming home. It was barely half past one. She headed out towards the kitchen.

 

 

Raisa was the best cook in Starling City but being the best took a lot of prep work. She was busy shelling the green beans and making everything ready to cook tomorrow when Felicity bustled in. Felicity moved in and started pulling out materials for the cupcakes. Her aunt may be the best cook, but Felicity was the best baker. There was no question that she would need to make Oliver’s supposed favorite dessert, so she started pouring and mixing a batter together, not really following a recipe, but rather just adding what felt right. Baking was something that she thoroughly enjoyed and it always relaxed her. Felicity was so in the zone that she didn’t hear footsteps approaching.

 

Thea made her jump when she swiped a finger through the cake mix and sucked it into her mouth while closing her eyes and giving an approving groan. Felicity smiled at her before asking what she was doing there so late. Thea laughed, “I have an affinity for knowing when dessert is being made. Mom’s helping Oliver get to bed, but I knew where to go.” Raisa smiled at Thea.

 

Felicity poured the cake mix into cupcake trays and placed them in the oven. She got started on making the icing and was fighting Thea off from eating all of it when another set of footsteps rang through the kitchen. Felicity kept mixing, assuming that Moira was returning from helping Oliver but looked up when she heard her aunt gasp.

 

Her aunt was being embraced by a big bear of a man, but it wasn’t the man from the pictures. This one was different. He looked… harder, more rugged, and dangerous. The boy from the pictures was lanky and significantly less intense. To be honest, the boy had always looked like the typical swarmy, rich boy that complained about a broken nail. The person in front of her looked like he had been through war. The hug was turned so that she could see his face while he embraced her aunt. His eyes were closed and he held a softer expression, but she could feel something darker hiding beneath the surface. The breath rushed out of Felicity’s body. He was beautiful. Like right hand of God, Lucifer beautiful. He deserved to be plastered on the front of a glossy magazine. He looked chiseled, rock hard, and as he turned her attention fixed itself on his ass. It was nice. Yup, it was definitely a good, solid one.

 

In the photos Felicity remembered feeling that the boy was too cocky, too carefree, and too arrogant looking. He always had a goofy smile on his face, like he knew just how the world worked and could make anything he wanted happen. The man in front of her lacked these qualities. In their stead was an austerity and lethal grace about him. He was captivating... and then he opened his eyes. Cold blue hit her like ice; the intensity level of the room increased and the temperature went up a few degrees. Felicity forced her gaze away; it was impolite to stare.

 

She looked down and resumed mixing the icing, acting like it required all of her attention to be done properly, but she could feel his gaze on her. Then, in Russian, she heard him ask Raisa, “Who’s the blonde?” Felicity smiled to herself: he didn’t know she spoke Russian.

Raisa responded in Russian that she was her niece, and then she felt him move closer. Felicity looked up and found him significantly closer and staring at her, his eyes somewhat questioning. She really couldn’t fault him for staring, she couldn’t expect him to have the best manners when having been alone for five years. All of the sudden, the timer for the cupcakes went off, and Felicity jolted into action. Felicity used the timer as an excuse to ignore the newly present Oliver and turned to grab them out of the oven. She checked them with a toothpick and, feeling satisfied with how they turned out, started to pull them out and put them on the cooling rack.

 

Oliver looked down at the cupcakes like they were completely foreign to him, then he slowly picked one up, like they weren’t hot as hell, having just emerged from an oven, and brought it slowly to his mouth. He took a bite and then sighed into it. He gave a little growl before he devoured the whole thing, popping the huge hunk into his mouth. He looked at Felicity expectantly and she jumped into action, grabbing the icing and sliding some onto another cupcake for him, the mixture melting and sliding off the sides because the heat of the cakes.

“These are amazing” he said in between bites. Felicity glowed. He looked like a cat with a toy, his entire concentration on the cupcake. He looked utterly ridiculous, a full grown man looking like a kid in a candy shop with her cupcakes. She kept icing them for him and he had three more before he stopped. She put the rest into the pantry for the next day. His reaction to the cupcakes pleased her and made her tummy feel warm. Maybe having him back wouldn’t be so bad.

 

Felicity studied Oliver. He was talking with her aunt while stroking Thea’s hand and massaging it delicately. Felicity just took him in, the lines of his face, the way his arm muscles flexed when he shifted, the way his cotton shirt stretched across his chest, and his overall presence. Something in her grew hot. Oliver from the pictures was cute, but the man in front of her was… well… a man. Images of him tore through her head and she quickly shook them away. She had no right to dream about him. She had just met him and he had gone through a tragedy. She slowly backed out of the kitchen and went back to her room to try to sleep. It didn’t come.

***

Felicity had always been a restless sleeper. It was part of what drove her love for coffee. It was four in the morning and she was still wide awake. She sighed, grabbed her robe, and started roaming. The Queen house had a unique beauty at night, and the halls were filled with art that she seldom got to look at during normal hours due to her duties.

 

She crept up the stairs, running her palm over the smooth cherry wood of the railing. It was intricately cut, but had been sanded down smoothly to form to the hand. She walked through the hall and stopped to admire every painting. They were all in different styles and had their own charm. She was about to reach out and lightly stroke one when she heard a muffled scream and a thud. Felicity acted on instinct and ran towards the sound. She opened several doors before she found the source: Oliver was on the floor, curled into a ball. His window had come open and rain was pouring in, soaking him, while thunder roared so loud that it shook the mansion to its very foundation. She ran to the window and shut it quickly before turning to Oliver. His breath was coming heavily and one of his hands was clawing into the carpet. Felicity knelt down and touched his shoulder in attempt to wake him when suddenly she was flipped onto her back, her breath pushed out of her and Oliver was above her, his eyes crazed.

 

He had effectively pinned her down, one arm across her torso and the other holding her arms above her head. Her breath came in pants, but she managed to say his name. “Oliver….” She said, still breathing heavily. “It’s just a dream; it’s just me, calm down, you’re safe.” She stared into his eyes, looking for some shred of humanity, but only saw animal. Whatever he’d gone through on the island, he’d suffered immense pain. She felt her eyes water slightly and found herself blinking back tears.

 

She watched his eyes go from stormy to clear as he realized where he was. He wrenched his hands back and sat up. She sat up with him. “You’re okay. You’re not on the island anymore” she said, moving to kneel beside him. She tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch. He looked at her, fear still embezzled in his eyes and so she pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around his body. His breathing slowed as she felt him relax against her and so she let him go, realizing she quite literally had his face pressed up against her breasts. “Do you want some hot cocoa?” she asked, unsure how to proceed in the situation. He gave her a small smile but shook his head. He was a quiet one, she thought. Exceptionally broody.

Felicity gave him a look over, watching his breathing slow and his body calm. He was shirtless, and Felicity let her eyes flicker over his chest quickly. A girl could appreciate a well-built guy, right? And he was built. He looked like Adonis fresh out of the shower and dipped in gold. She felt hot once again, her body stirring. She crossed her hands in front of her torso, her nipples betraying her and budding against the fabric of her cotton top. God she was an ass. Yeah, he had a nice chest, but almost every inch of it was covered with scars, riddled with evidence of his pain.

As her eyes moved over his chest, she noticed a small black tattoo. Squinting slightly, and simultaneously damning herself for leaving her glasses in her room, she tried to make out the intricate design. It was a mystery, and she had to find out what it was.

Suddenly, she shot up from her position on the floor, stumbling backwards. “I’ll be going now. Hope you’re better. Good luck with the sleep thing. I’ll tell someone to check up on you….”, she yelled as she made a hasty exit, practically sprinting from the room and tripping over her own feet.

Having Oliver Queen back was bad. Very bad. Like “ruin your life and run as far as you can” bad. She pushed her hands through her hair. If he found out who she was, he would come for her, he would kill her, and he wouldn’t have a second thought about it.

Oliver Queen had a Russian tattoo.

It was the tattoo of the Bratva, and more specifically of a Bratva captain.

It was the tattoo that symbolized what she had been running from all her life.


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver hated press conferences. He loved being back home, and over the past few days he had found himself settling in nicely, but press conferences made him dream of some of the more peaceful days on the Island, where you could close your eyes on a hunt and only hear the wind through the trees- all while watching out for land mines of course. Looking at the reporter angrily thrusting a microphone in his direction, Oliver decided he preferred the mines to this.

 

What can you tell us about the Island Oliver?”

“Was your father alive with you on the Island?”

“How did you survive?”

 

They were all good questions, but he wasn't ready to answer any of them. He wanted to tell them all to leave. He wanted to scream the obvious: that what they were asking of him was extremely sensitive and none of their business. But that wasn't what people expected of him. They want him to be a more rugged version of the fun loving Oliver he'd been before the island. They expect him to be deliriously happy. Happy to be home. Happy to have family. Happy to be rich after living like an animal. And he was happy to be home, but that didn't mean that the nightmares had gone away, that the things he'd done didn't still affect him, and that part of him would always be on that island.

 

Oliver looked over at his mother and gave her the signal they'd agreed on- the one that keyed her in that he was uncomfortable, and she moved forward towards the microphone. “Unfortunately that's all the time we have for questions. Oliver is still recovering and we're taking things slow. Thank you all for coming today”, she said, giving Oliver's hand a reassuring squeeze. 

 

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. He had much more important things to think about than the press conference. First things first, he needed to find a place to bunker down in the Glades for his operations. He had a few ideas, but actually setting up shop would take some work. He'd need a fairly significant alibi for being in the Glades, considering the level of poverty that part of the city was in. He'd still try to stay out of the spotlight, but he'd need an excuse to appease his family.

 

His mother had been pressuring him to dive into _Queen Consolidated_ , to reassert himself into the world by taking his “rightful place”, and Oliver thought that using a small business to assert that he was taking on some semblance of responsibility would help get her off his back and could also duo as a place to conduct his more private dealings.

 

Secondly, Oliver hadn't gotten the chance to catch his beautiful mystery maid alone again since the first day he arrived. He'd briefly gotten a glimpse of her in the halls on his way to conferences and the like, but almost as soon as he'd seen her, she'd been gone. She was probably off doing some ridiculous task his mother had put her to. He'd have to look in to her getting a raise in pay considering the way she hurried off to work. 

 

Oliver had made it his intention to thank her for how gracious she'd been about that night. He'd practically mauled her in his sleep and she'd took it in stride, offering him comfort and peace until he'd calmed. Hell, she'd even asked if he needed hot chocolate, as if he'd been a simpering toddler.

 

He'd have to admit that wasn't the only reason he'd been hoping to bump into her. She was beautiful beyond words. She was innocently pretty in the way that made your throat go dry, and at first he'd just thought she looked that way because he hadn't seen a woman in so long, but he'd seen many women since then and she was still incomparable.

 

He thought briefly of the first time he'd seen her. She'd been blushing while furiously trying to ice cupcakes. Her hair had been pulled back in a messy pony tail and she was biting her lip in concentration. It was like looking at the sun. He'd thought that she was pretty in a very angelic way until he'd saw what she was wearing, and his reaction to her had been far more sacrilegious than he'd expected. She was dressed for bed, but the sheer tank was tight and clung to her body, highlighting her ample breasts and figure, and her boxer shorts did little more to cover her lower half. Her beading nipples were clearly outlined through her top and her boxers clung to her bottom in a way that should have been illegal. He'd felt his blood heat and a surge of pure need had run through him. His first instinct was to pull her towards him and run his hands down to her hips and grind her body against his. She looked soft, and he wanted to feel how it felt to nibble on the full lower lip she kept biting. He'd pictured doing that very thing as he'd bit into one of her cupcakes and her big blue eyes had widened as if she could read his thoughts. Her blush had grown, spreading down her neck and disappearing under her shirt. Interesting, he thought, briefly wondering just how far it went.

 

Later he'd find out just how good it felt to be pressed up against her. She'd been trying to comfort him after he'd practically attacked her in his sleep, and he had to admit that he clung to her a moment longer than necessary. Her robe had fallen open and she'd pulled his head to her chest and stroked his hair. It had felt like heaven. She'd smelled like chocolate cupcakes and he'd prayed she couldn't feel his soldier start to fiercely salute. He'd felt like the devil himself. She'd been trying to make sure he was okay after he'd thrown her to the ground, and his body wanted to thank her by tearing her clothes off. She'd scampered off like a spooked animal on the hunt after that and he couldn't blame her.

 

Aside from any romantic intentions, she'd shown incredible kindness to him and had been sensitive enough to not pry into his issues after his night terror. For that, he owed her a solid thank you, and if he could show her that by buying her dinner, then so be it. Now all he had to do was catch her long enough to talk to her about it.

***

Felicity loved press conferences. And the paparazzi. Pretty much just media in general, seeing as it had successfully kept the entire Queen family busy for the past couple of days, and most importantly kept Oliver out of the house and away from Felicity. Tonight was his “welcome back bash” that Tommy was throwing him, and the entire house was quiet.

 

She had to leave before he realized who she was. Before he put the pieces together. Her heart felt like it was tearing open every time she thought about leaving Raisa, but this was not the first time she'd needed to make the hard choice to survive, and with the Bratva, there really isn't a choice: you walk away before they have you in their sights, or you get put down. Shuddering, she forced her thoughts away from that and focused on the task at hand.

 

Felicity haphazardly shoved her few belongings into a bag hastily, and checked her room for anything necessary that she'd forgotten. She'd left a note on the bed for Raisa, apologizing for the sudden departure and urging her not to worry. She also tried to convey her sympathies in the letter to Thea, whom she was truly fond of. She'd set both of them on top of her neatly folded uniform. She'd thought of taking it with her, as something to symbolize her time with the Queens, but thought better of it. It would be better if she just ripped off the band aid. She didn't know if she could leave if she hesitated now.

 

Slamming her laptop shut and clutching it to her chest, she grabbed her bag, slunk out of her room, and left the mansion through the side entrance. With shaking hands, she dialed the number for a cab and waited. She'd found a small apartment online, whose owner accepted payment in cash with no questions asked. It was in the Glades, but at the moment the Glades weren't what kept her up at night, and so she'd make them her home.

 

Looking through a window, she could make out Raisa arranging a vase with flowers in between the stained panes, and she felt the sting of her eyes beginning to water. She shook her head, clearing them and took a deep breath before forcing herself to walk down the long drive to the main street. A cab pulled up and Felicity got in, leaving her old world behind.

 

***

_Six Months Later_

A girl's gotta eat. Or at least that's what Felicity had been telling herself for the past month to convince herself that the things she was doing were necessary. Her savings had been a joke: she'd blown through them in three months easy, and small hacking jobs on the side only covered about half of her rent. Two months in, her landlord had raised the price, saying she needed to “buy his silence” to “keep things simple”. Essentially, if she wanted to keep paying cash with no questions asked, the rent was going up. A lot. Felicity had tried finding another apartment with the same accommodations for cheaper, but the Glades are known for being dangerous, and people aren't too trusting.

 

She'd been trying to get a job at Wayne Enterprises in Gotham, but you can only get so far when you don't have any references, except for the ones she'd obtained slightly illegally online. Still, she was working on it and was getting nibbles. Within a few months, she knew she could reel in a full time job there, but she just had to keep building a portfolio in the meantime. Getting out of the city could be life saving for her, and she was holding onto the dream of Gotham like a life line.

 

The issue was that she didn't have a few months. She needed the cash flow to keep going, and that was how she found herself working at Verdant. The club had sprouted out of nowhere in the Glades, and to be honest, she liked its style. It was as nice as any club in Starling, was a solid attempt at gentrification, and had an owner that also liked his privacy. No one knew who owned Verdant, and Felicity thought it oddly appropriate that she work for a company that was almost as private and shrouded as she was. She'd looked into it, and all that people knew was that it was “privately contracted”.

 

Essentially, it was about as far from Oliver Queen that she could get without leaving the city. Verdant wasn't clean enough for Queen involvement. In fact, she could barely picture any of them stepping foot in the Glades, much less conducting business there. Secondly, the Queens don't do anything, especially something that could give them a reputation for enriching the community, without stamping their fat name on it. Their company is called Queen Consolidated for god sakes and last time Felicity checked, Verdant wasn't some lame club coyly named something like “Queen of Hearts” and filled with a bunch of swarmy rich people. If the Queen's were sniffing around, she'd know, and Verdant was about as far off of the Queen's radar as Oliver had been for those five years.

 

Felicity felt herself wince. She felt bad for even thinking that, knowing firsthand how horrible the experience had been for them. She shouldn't make light of it. Not even in her thoughts. Although, when Felicity thought about it, there was only one thing she could be for sure of: Oliver Queen had not been on an island for five years. She'd seen the pictures of him before the ship sank, as the house had been like a living shrine to him, and in all of them his skin had been smooth and unscathed. There had been no scars and certainly no tattoos, which meant he'd gotten them during his time gone. By the looks of it, Oliver had to have been extremely deep in the Russian mob to be a captain. What's more is that Oliver had been around civilization and he hadn't tried to come home for obviously quite some time. One doesn't become friends with the mob overnight. What reason would he have to stay away? It just didn't make sense. You don't choose the Bratva unless you're born to it, and even then it's a hard life.

 

            Anyway, working for Verdant was nice. Felicity made good tips as a bartender, at least enough tips to keep her landlord, Vinny, from sniffing around until next month. Still, she could practically see Raisa lecturing her in Russian. She'd say that her top is missing the bottom part and the wee bit that covers her breasts. She'd say that her pants are like skin and should be burned, and that her shoes make her look like she stands on street corners asking men if they “see something they like”. In fact, she was quite sure that Raisa would make Felicity wash at least half of the makeup off of her face before speaking with her, claiming that she “didn't recognize her”. That was okay though, because she didn't recognize herself. The truth is that skin sells, that the blisters she gets from the shoes end up being worth it when she checks the tip jar at the end of the night, and the makeup makes her feel like it’s not actually her men are leering at.

 

With that in mind, Felicity arches her back and leans forward, offering a scruffy looking patron a wink and a significant eyeful of cleavage. His eyes don't leave her chest as he desperately roots around with his mouth for the straw and ends up spilling on himself. Felicity fights back a smirk before moving on to the next costumer. Yes, Raisa would disapprove, but Raisa wasn't here, and a girl can't live off of ramen forever. Plus, Felicity was pretty sure Raisa would prefer her showing a little skin to finding her corpse.

 

Felicity looked up to see Kacey walk behind the counter.

 

“You've got it from here?”, she asked, a mixture of excitement and exhaustion seeping into her voice.

Kacey smiled at Felicity and swatted her butt playfully, “Yes! Now get out of here so I can settle in. I can't see past your boobs”, she said playfully, gesturing to the way they'd been shoved up and together almost obnoxiously.

 

Felicity nudged Kacey back with her elbow, muttering “jerk” playfully under her breath before collecting her tips and going to the back and grabbing her coat.

Felicity searched around the back for a moment, shuffling and moving boxes around before she let out a long groan. She'd forgotten her flats. The ones with the pandas on them that made her feet feel like they were being cushioned by clouds, especially when she donned them after wearing six inch heels for hours. It was a long trek back to her shabby apartment, and she hated walking it in her heels. She muttered a curse under her breath before pulling her sweatshirt over her head, gathering the rest of her things and heading out.

 

            She entered the alley and pulled her phone out of her pockets. Crap: no signal. The area was still very touch and go when it came to reception. Some days it worked and other days… Felicity held her phone up to the night sky, hoping a tiny signal would surge through. Moving forward, Felicity kept her phone out, using it for light to navigate the uneven alley in her heels. Taking off her shoes would be a huge no no, considering there was glass and broken bottles everywhere. Verdant was a shining establishment, but the rest of the Glades were still severely lacking in the sanitation department. Felicity kept walking.

 

            Ten minutes later, she was still two blocks away from her apartment, and her feet were killing her. It felt like they'd been shoved into sausage casings and Felicity found herself glancing down longingly at her poor toes. She knew for a fact there would be at least three blisters on her left foot alone. She cursed underneath her breath. There was a loud bang from the alley to her right, and as she passed, she saw a group of four men shaking down a homeless guy who clearly didn't have anything for them. Felicity walked faster, cursing as her heels clicked relentlessly against the pavement and bit further into her feet. “It's only a bit further”, she told herself. She looked down at her phone again, but the no signal bar was still blaring at her almost mockingly.

 

“Whoa, hold on there doll. Where do you think you're going?”, one of the men called. Felicity kept walking. She suddenly felt herself pulled back by her ponytail before she saw stars as she was thrust up against the building to her side. Her head hit the brick, and for a second her vision wavered. Pain worked it's way into her skull in shards, cold waves of it hitting her behind her eyes. Blinking through the pain, she looked up at one of the men, who was holding her against the wall.

 

“I asked you a question”, he slurred. God, Felicity could smell the beer on his breath. Vomit churned in her stomach and she tried to turn her head away from the stench.

 

“Let me go”, she seethed.

 

“Oh, come now, that's no way to treat friends”, he said, gesturing to the men gathering up behind him.

“Come on Randy, let her go. She looks young”, one said. Another chimed in, “she don't look that young to me”.

 

Felicity felt herself start to shake, and tried to put a lid on her nerves and steel herself. “Take your hands off of me”, she said, acid entering her tone.

 

“Or what, sweetie?”, he said, looking back at his friends with mirth. Felicity narrowed her eyes at him before promptly bringing her knee swiftly between his legs and then slamming one stiletto directly onto the squishy part of his foot. She felt satisfied when she heard a distinctive crack. The louse hopped back, howling like mad and holding his foot. Felicity barely had time to blink before two other men were holding her up against the wall. Shit.

 

“You'll pay for that bitch. We only wanted to have a little fun.”

 

One of the men holding her pulled a knife out of his pocket and Felicity let out a scream and shrank back. “Shut up”, the man said and he pushed his palm flat against her mouth. She bit it. It tasted like dirt. He wrenched his hand back and she let out another scream. This one louder. The guy on the right slapped her across the face. Force reverberated across her teeth and she tasted blood. “You make another sound and you get the knife”, he said, gesturing with it before shoving the cold steel against her skin. She shut up.

 

            The smallest one in the group shifted on his feet in the back. “Johnny, I don't know how I feel about this. Do you think someone heard that?”

 

“Shut up Sam, you're becoming a man tonight”, the one with the knife shouted back. Felicity felt paralyzed. There were too many of them and she couldn't defend against that knife.

 

            Felicity shrank against the wall and closed her eyes tight, attempting to prepare herself for whatever was about to happen, when she heard it. There was a solid thud, and then she heard the man she'd kneed in the balls mutter, “what the fuck?”

 

            The two men holding her suddenly let go and Felicity wrenched her eyes open. She struggled to understand what she was seeing at first, the darkness and the pain still echoing in her head making it difficult, but her vision cleared and she could make out four men fighting. The small one, Sam, was lying on the alley floor and watching, his eyes filling up with terror before he bolted.

 

            The three remaining thugs were ganging up on one man- a new arrival, or at least that's what it seemed like. The longer Felicity watched, she realized that her assailants were struggling to defend themselves against the new man in the middle. Felicity gasped as she watched him fight: he moved like a storm. He was destructive and sure in all of his movements, cutting through the men like weeds. He was wearing dark leather with a hood pulled over his head and a bow slung over his back. Felicity felt the definite urge to pinch herself: either she was dreaming, or freaking Robin Hood himself had come to her rescue. Oo-de-laly indeed.

 

“FUCK THIS”, one of the men screamed, before running in the direction Sam had fled. The other two men followed suit soon after, scrambling and tripping over their own feet in their hurry.

 

            The man in the hood stood in the middle of the alley, his face cast downwards cutting off her vision to his face. Felicity stared up at him dumbly for what felt like eternity before clearing her head and forcing herself to move. She stood and limped over to him, holding out her hand for him to shake. “Thank you so much. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't- if they'd-”, her voice trailed off, her stomach coiling again and vomit rising in her throat. She choked it down. Her vigilante hadn't moved from his spot, and just stared at her hand. Standing this close to him, she realized that the guy was huge, like has his own command on gravitational force huge. Felicity got the sudden feeling that this man might be just as dangerous to her- or more- than the four men he'd just nearly beaten to a pulp. She gulped and pulled her hand back.

 

            The Hood- as she'd dubbed him in her head- peered at her from underneath said garment, and Felicity thought he was going to say something, but he paused. After a moment, he spoke: “what are you doing out here, alone, at night?” a mechanically altered voice bit out. She got the feeling the question was asking more than what was on the surface. He was asking what _she_ was doing in the Glades at all, like she'd walked into a world where she didn't belong. She was Alice in freaking Wonderland and he was wondering how the hell she found her way down this rabbit hole.

“I'm just walking home from work, you know, taking the scenic route. On the left you'll find an impressive nest of raccoons and coming up on the right you'll find an even more impressive nest of rapists.”, she bit out, feeling some of the nerve seep back into her in the form of cheeky energy. Why did he think she was out in the Glades at night? It's not like one did it just for giggles.

 

            Underneath his hood, she could make out a grimace on his face, but she thought she saw one of the corners of his mouth tilt up. From what she could see, it was a nice mouth, although admittedly she couldn't see much. She could tell that he had a fair amount of scruff lining his cheeks, and she'd always been a sucker for facial hair. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, and figured she'd looked like a deranged fish gaping up at him. In her defense a freaking vigilante just saved her from 3 thugs and a try hard gang member while wielding a bow and some serious muscles before talking to her like nothing had happened. She kinda felt that she'd earned the right to gape.

 

Looking down at the ground, Felicity took a deep breath. “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it. You know, the whole not-letting-them-kill-me thing. That was super cool of you”, she said. “If you ever need a drink or you're having computer issues, I'm your girl. You can find me at Verdant. I work there six nights a week.”

 

Mr. Hood stayed silent, quietly brooding in his way and taking in information. Felicity internally shrugged. In the movies, super heroes always ran off after saving the girl, likely off to save someone else. She really didn't know what to do in the case where one stuck around. Figuring that was the end of it, she turned to continue to her apartment, which would have been nice to do with aplomb and grace, except her luck for the night must have caught up with her because she immediately tripped.

 

Before she could hit the pavement though, she felt gloved hands steady her and heard a faint chuckle. It sounded off because of the distortion, but of one thing she was positive: her hooded hero was laughing at her.

 

“Do you always wear stilts?”, he asked. Felicity looked over at him, a witty retort ready, but the words died on her tongue. His face was still shaded under the hood, and a mask covered half of his face, but his eyes were laughing and dammit he had a good jaw. She swallowed once, her throat suddenly dry.

“No, I forgot my flats at home today. Usually I change into them, and well, as you can see...”, she gestured down at herself before continuing, “gravity has a personal vendetta against me.”

 

Mr. Hood nodded at that, clearing his throat to keep from laughing, and Felicity straightened, turning again to leave. “I think I got it from here. Thanks again”, she said, waving before turning to go.

 

He let her leave, but she was vaguely aware of him following at a respectable distance behind her. He wasn't trying too terribly hard to conceal himself, and Felicity got the feeling that he was just trying to make sure she got home safe. Couldn't have his heroics be for none, could we?

 

When she got to her apartment complex, she turned around and gave him a look and wave that said “home safe”, and he gave her a curt nod before disappearing into the night.

 

Entering her apartment and closing the door, she sank to the floor against it. She could have died tonight. Oliver Queen's stance in the mob or not, she needed to get out of the Glades. Oliver Queen isn’t a threat to her if she dies before he finds out who she is. Then again, there are some things, things that the Bratva do in their play time to people like her that are worse than death.

***

Felicity woke to loud banging on the door.

 

Rubbing her eyes and grabbing her robe, Felicity made her way to the door.

 

“Shit”, Felicity muttered, peering through her peep hole. Vinny was back. Felicity undid the latch and opened the door. “What do you want Vinny?”, she asked. Vinny always wanted something, and usually that something meant bad things for Felicity.

 

“Oh, why it gotta be like that doll?”, he said, his voice grating against her ears. God, she hated pet names. She stared at him expectantly. It was too early for this shit.

 

Vinny ran a hand over his oily comb over almost nervously, but Felicity knew better. “Listen doll, the rents gotta go up again”, he said, leaning into the door frame.

 

“No. Vinny it just went up last month. You know this is bullshit”, Felicity said exasperatingly. Fuck. She was barely scraping by as it was. She couldn't handle higher rent. She didn't have that kinda money. The last time he'd raised the rent she'd thought that he couldn't possibly raise it any higher, but she guessed she was wrong.

 

“Sorry doll. I have to have extra since you don't want any questions. I'm putting myself at risk here. If feds came sniffing around and found out I was housing someone that was a criminal or something like that I'd be in trouble. This gives me a little… incentive.”

 

“How much more?” Felicity asked.

“Well- if I factor in the utilities...”

“Just tell me how much”, Felicity snapped. She was done with his slimy pandering.

“I'm going to need another thousand”, he said, raising his hands in the air defensively, like it wasn't up to him.

 

“Vinny you know I don't have that kind of money. Hell, no one in the Glades does.” Felicity said.

Vinny paused for a second. His eyes gleaming in a way that she didn't like before he rubbed his meaty fingers together. “I do recall making you an offer last month that you refused. Maybe you've had some time to think and reevaluate”, he seethed, wagging his eyebrows at her.

 

No. Fuck no. Nope. No. A month ago, Vinny had shown up suggesting that he'd let Felicity live there rent free if she prostituted herself out to him. He'd said that they'd go on a “date” and that he'd be a “real gentleman”, but both of them knew how that story would end if she'd say yes. Nothing is for free and every payment comes after a service. Jesus, it was becoming very clear that the rent would continue to go up until she either was forced to move into the streets or into Vinny's bed. Neither were viable options.

 

“Fuck you Vinny”, she said before slamming the door. He'd barely gotten his grubby hands out of the way before it was shut.

 

“I'll be ready for my money then! You've got one month doll”, he screamed through the door. Felicity could picture little flecks of spittle leaving his mouth as he talked and she shuddered at even considering being romantic with Vinny. Felicity locked the door before sinking down against it and rubbing her face in her hands. How the hell was she supposed to do this?

 

***

Felicity pulled her sweater over her head and flung off her heels. She wiggled her toes and let out a small sigh before putting on her flats. It had been a fairly standard night. She'd made decent, but not exceptional tips and the costumers had been fairly easy to deal with. There hadn't been any particularly rowdy patrons.

 

Shoving her tips into her purse, she didn't have to do calculations to know that, at this rate, she wouldn't make rent. Pushing those thoughts aside, she shoved her legs into her comfy sweats and finished grabbing her stuff. Waving bye to Derek, tonight's closing manager, she headed out the door.

 

It was a cold night and Felicity made a mental note to bring a thicker coat next time. Winter was coming and she didn't want to get caught walking home in the snow under dressed.

 

Felicity started walking, but something stopped her. Maybe it was a feeling in her gut or the needles prickling the back of her neck, but she found herself looking up at the buildings lining the alley as she was walking past. One of them had statues on top that looked over the alley, and Felicity felt her breath catch: had one of the statues just moved? Or was that just her imagination? She told herself that she was being stupid and kept walking, but a minute later when she looked back, the one in question was missing, and one of similar size had appeared on the roof next to her. There was a street lamp off in the distance and she could barely make out its silhouette. Sure enough, her hooded gentleman was crouched on top of the roof and was as still as stone. So still that she'd almost missed him. Cocking her head to the side, she studied him. That ledge couldn't be comfortable. Chuckling to herself, she thought back to his previous comment about her heels.

 

“You know, that's a lot higher than my stilts”, she called out, taking a gamble. She didn't want to spook him. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to move, but after a second he stood and hopped down- rather gracefully for someone so obviously huge.

“So, are you following me or is this just your spot?” she asked. “I wouldn't want to infringe on your territory.”

 

“I just wanted to make sure we didn't have another repeat of the other night.”

 

Felicity shivered thinking about it, but couldn't help but be touched by the sentiment. “Alright, well feel free to walk down here. I don't mind and I don't bite”, she said. He nodded, and gestured for her to resume walking.

 

Without further talking, they made their way down the streets. Felicity thought that she would feel safe and comfortable walking with him, and she did feel safe, but she wasn't expecting to feel quite so… odd about it. He was walking behind her, his steps completely silent, and she couldn't help but feel like there was something oddly… predatory about it. Like he was a panther and she was his prey. He moved so silently, she almost forgot he was there. Every time she looked back expecting him to be gone, he was there, a mocking smirk on his face and his eyes gazing intensely back at her. Felicity felt herself blush. Part of her wished that she wasn't wearing sweats. If she was going to get stalked by a hulking, hot vigilante, she wanted something to show for herself, but at least she was comfortable.

 

When they reached her apartment, she stopped and turned to face him. He was looking up at her apartment and Felicity suddenly felt self-conscious. The building looked like it should have been torn down years ago.  The wooden door at the entrance was cracked and rotten and the fire escape on the side was rusted. She was pretty sure she would trust the fire more than exiting down it.

“You live here?” the familiar mechanical voice asked. “Why?”

 

What did he mean: 'why?’ Felicity thought. People only live in places like this for one reason: because they have to. “It's all I can afford”, she said, shrugging and leaving it at that.

 

He grimaced and nodded at that, but he seemed on edge, like he wanted to ask more but couldn’t.

 

Felicity stared up at him. The thought of movement left her as the intensity of his gaze kept her captivated. Suddenly, Felicity realized how close they were standing, and once again, she felt incredibly small up against him. Staring up at him under the hood, she could see his eyes. They were obviously light, but she couldn't tell if they would be green or blue in the dark. She saw something predatory flicker in them, and took in a deep breath. Her eyes widened as he took a step closer. Heat clawed in her belly and she felt her mouth go dry. Her eyes traveled down to his mouth. It was dark and shaded beneath his hood, but it looked like a nice mouth. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as he leaned in. For a second, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. His mouth came down towards hers and she let her eyes flutter shut. She felt his breath near her ear, making her shiver.

 

“Stay safe,” he whispered, before turning and disappearing into the night.

***

Of one thing Oliver Queen was absolutely certain: Felicity was hiding something. He'd been completely taken aback when he found out that she'd left the Queen household for what seemed like no reason, but she had shown up in the place he'd least expected her: the Glades. Finding her had been both a godsend and a conundrum. He'd seen men assailing someone, but he'd never had guessed it would have been her. She'd completely befuddled him.

 

And she'd been right under his nose the whole time too. For God's sake she worked at Verdant. If he'd only looked at the list of employees his manager's had hired or checked up on business during a night shift he'd have found her months ago. He'd looked into it though and she was using a fake last name in their records and all the information he could find on her from his employees was fabricated. 

 

He'd seen her apartment building and done some scouting on it. The place was falling apart and he had half a mind to call an inspector and have it shut down but he knew that Felicity believed she had nowhere else she could stay. It just didn't make sense. Sure, being a maid is not the most glorious life in the world, but she made decent wages and had a nice place to stay. She had been welcome there. One simply doesn't leave a place like the Queen mansion for the Glades unless it's for a reason. Felicity Smoak was on the run from something, and Oliver was of a mind to find out just what that something was. Leaving her apartment behind, he set off to do just that.

He didn't like mysteries and this one needed to be solved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter for the wait. Looking for a beta. Doing this stuff is hard, so don't hate me for errors!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning, sorry if anyone is affected. It happens towards the end of the chapter. Don't worry, all ends well. This isn't meant to be a dark story. My muse just went a little haywire last night. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Tommy said, smiling coyly and taking a sip of his drink.

 

Oliver snorted at Tommy’s use of ‘we’, considering he’d done most of the heavy lifting. Still, he bit his tongue and didn’t say anything, just taking in the view from the VIP area. “I’d say we’re doing a little more than alright.”

 

The dance floor was completely full, the lights flashing brightly over the crowd of writhing bodies as music blared. The club had turned out to be everything Oliver imagined and more. Not only was the location perfect to act as both a cover and a hideout, it was doing amazingly well for a new club and had become profitable almost immediately. Its success also made it seem more valid that he was too busy with “work” every time his mom hinted that QC needed him and reminded him of his “responsibility to the legacy”. The last time it had come up, he’d insisted that he was busy meeting with promoters and Moira had simply nodded, her lips drawing out into a thin line, and signaled that they’d talk about it again “once things were settled”.

 

Oliver’s eyes moved across the room, scanning the club until they found their target, his mouth quirking into a small smile.

 

“I know that look,” Tommy yelled over the music, a goofy smile plastered on his face. Oliver shot him a questioning look.

 

Tommy laughed, slapping a hand down on his shoulder heartily with one hand and pointing towards Oliver’s face with his drink hand. “That face is the exact face you used to make when you spotted the babe you were going to take home and- you know- show the Queen jewels.” Oliver’s face darkened, not liking what Tommy was implying but Tommy continued, seemingly unaware of his friend’s change in mood. “I’m relieved to be honest. I was starting to think you’d turned into a monk while you were on that island.”

 

Oliver’s eyes flashed back to the “babe” in question. Felicity was standing behind the bar and balancing an impressive stack of glasses up her arm. She looked to be fairly comfortable putting on a show for her customers, but he could tell by the slightly strained look on her face that she was pushing herself. He brought his drink to his mouth, watching with mild concern as the glass on top started teetering before she steadied it.

 

One of the other benefits of the club was being able to watch her in action- to get a feel for what she was up to. He still didn’t understand why she suddenly quit. He hadn’t made his presence known to her- excluding when he wore a hood. He didn’t want to scare her off if he had something to do with her leaving. He had let himself watch her the past couple nights she worked. He’d noticed she’d been trying increasingly more difficult tricks. They were impressive- they drew larger crowds and larger tips, but as good as she was at bluffing, he could tell she wasn’t as comfortable performing them as she’d like everyone to believe.

 

Oliver stood from where he was lounging, leaving a gaping Tommy behind while slowly making his way out of the VIP area and walking down the stairs that led to the balcony. He kept to the edge of the room where the shadows would still keep him fairly concealed- unless someone was actively looking. His eyes remained glued to her as he slowly made his way closer to the bar.  

 

He’d seen her every night the past few nights, and he still managed to forget exactly how breathtakingly beautiful she was. On this particular night, her hair was pulled away from her face in a ponytail. Her blue eyes were narrowed in concentration, her lush mouth pouty and full, her teeth sinking delicately into her lower lip, and little wisps of hair that escaped her ponytail floated around her face and shined in the light- almost giving the illusion that she had a blonde halo. Which was slightly ironic considering that her outfit looked like it had been dipped in sin.

 

Oliver sucked in a breath as he took in the rest of her. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his body going stock still as two parts of his mind waged war on each other. Her throat was completely bare, the graceful curve of her neck accentuated as she bent over the drink she was currently mixing. Her shirt stuck to her body like a second skin, highlighting just how tiny her waist was while simultaneously showcasing her breasts by pressing them up until they threatened to burst out of the top. The lacy edges pressed against her creamy skin, tugging slightly with her every breath and movement and making Oliver’s throat dry. One of the straps of her shirt had slid down off of her shoulder. Oliver’s finger’s itched to go over and touch it, but he didn’t know if he wanted to slide it back up her arm, letting his hand graze over her soft skin- curious to see if she’d shiver beneath his touch- or if he wanted to pull it down and bare her to him completely. Her shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing the pale skin of her midriff as well. Oliver groaned. He couldn’t see what she was wearing for bottoms through the bar, but decided that was a good thing as he fought to clear his head. He was slightly perturbed at his body’s intense reaction to her.

 

Part of him was very aware that if he was seeing and reacting to her like this, then so was every other warm-blooded male in the club. That part of him wanted to find a very thick blanket and wrap her up in it until every inch of her was covered. Another part of him craved her. He wanted to peel her clothes away until there was nothing else between them and then claim her where she stood. He wanted her to be his and he wanted her- and everyone else there- to know it. Once again, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of his thoughts. He had no reason to be attached to her except for the nagging curiosity he had.

 

He told himself that it was because it had been a while that he was reacting this way, purposely ignoring the part of his mind that wondered why it was only her then. Laurel had even stopped by the other day and he couldn’t get himself to summon anything more than brotherly concern.

 

Oliver inched forward, slowly making his way towards the bar. She was smiling at a customer as he eagerly slid a tip over towards her before moving to make yet another drink. It was time, Oliver thought idly, that he try to talk to her. None of the threads he’d put out on her had brought back any relevant information or told him anything about why she ran. Raisa had told him that she’d raised Felicity for the most part- save for a couple years where she lived with her father. He’d looked into that and had found dead end after dead end. Her father’s records stating that he had died over twenty years ago.

 

Oliver moved closer. Felicity was balancing a couple glasses in one hand and pouring liquid out of a shaker in the other. As he approached the counter, he saw the exact moment she saw him. Her eyes found his. At first Oliver thought he saw something flicker in them, but then they widened impossibly and Oliver watched as the glasses she held came crashing down, hitting the floor violently and splintering into a thousand pieces. Cheers rang out from the patrons, a few of them clapping at her “slip”.  She looked around, seemingly disoriented for a moment before she immediately turned and ran.

 

Oliver stayed where he stood, not bothering to chase after her. He knew that look. She’d been terrified. Of him. He didn’t know why, but there was no way in denying it now: he was the reason she ran. Confusion hit him like a truck. He couldn’t imagine why. Sure, he’d tackled her to the ground that night, but she seemed more than understanding then. What had changed? The look she just gave him had been fear for her life- that didn’t happen from one exchange. There was nothing he could think of that she would know about that would make her fear him. Oliver turned, moving to find the club manager on call to clean up the mess and take hold of the situation.

 

Soon after, he disappeared to the basement in search of his equipment unhurriedly. He knew where she was going. She may be terrified of Oliver Queen, but he had the feeling he knew someone else she would talk to.  

***

Felicity threw the door to her apartment open, hurrying inside before slamming it shut and sliding the deadbolt closed with a resounding click. She knew the flimsy door wouldn’t do much against a Bratva captain, but she didn’t care. It was another barrier between her and the rest of the world. Moving further into her apartment, she pulled her suitcase out of her closet and threw it open on her bed before she started shoving all of her belongings into it. It wasn’t that hard to fit everything, seeing as she had left a lot of her belongings behind when she quit the Queen’s and then sold some of the rest after that.

 

Felicity’s hands shook as she zipped up the suitcase. Her vision went blurry as tears threatened to fall over her cheeks. She took deep breaths, trying to calm down before she worked herself into a full blown cry- one that would be impossible to stop once it started. Damnit she’d had a good thing going. Sure, she thought as she glanced around the deteriorating apartment, things could definitely be better, but she was getting by. Within a couple months she could have afforded to leave Starling entirely and get a fresh start. She’d just needed time. The one thing she was completely out of.  

 

Felicity did another glance through the apartment, checking the kitchen and grabbing her laptop. She slid it into her backpack. She kept her computer and a few other belongings separate from the suitcase. Mostly the things she didn’t want to risk losing and were most dear to her heart. She had a picture frame with her and Raisa. She let herself look at it longingly for a moment before she slid it back in the backpack. It was one of the few she had where they both weren’t in their maid uniforms. They’d just seen some action movie and had gotten someone else to take the photo while they stood back to back, posing like they were two of Charlie’s Angels, their hands in the air like they were supposed to be guns and goofy smiles plastered across their faces.

 

She froze when she heard it. The bang on the door. It was loud and it sent a trail of ice down her spine and she almost dropped the backpack. “Fuck”, she muttered under her breath, throwing the bag onto the bed with the suitcase and looking around for some sort of weapon. She wished she’d had the foresight to get a bat or a gun or _something_ to defend herself should the need arise. Hindsight is 20/20, she guessed. After a minute of searching and coming up empty, she settled on an old frying pan from the kitchen. She held it tightly in her hand, her knuckles whitening under her grip. “I hope Tangled got something right,” she muttered.

 

The pounding on the door continued. As quietly as she could, she made her way to the door. She prayed that the person on the other side couldn’t hear her steps. She peeked through the peephole, relief flooding her body when she saw it was just Vinny. The irony that she was relieved to see Vinny through the door did not escape her. She started backing away slowly, figuring he’d go away and think she was not home in a minute.

 

The banging continued. “Felicity!” She heard him scream through the door. “I know you’re in there! I saw you run up,” he slurred, his loud voice cutting clearly through her paper thin walls. Felicity winced, panic filtering through her lungs. He was loud. And drunk. If Oliver had been anywhere near behind her, there was a good chance Vinny would lead him right to her. “Fuck,” she said once again under her breath. She needed to deal with him.

 

She slid the latch open before opening the door. “It’s one am Vinny. What do you want?” She asked, still holding her frying pan tightly at her side.

 

“Pleasant as usual,” he slurred, barreling forward into the apartment. Felicity tried to stop him, but he weighed a ton and his drunken momentum pushed him forward.

 

“Vinny. Get out. You’re drunk and I didn’t give you permission to be in here,” Felicity said, praying her voice didn’t sound as weak as she thought it did. Vinny turned to her, his eyes widening as they trailed over her body. Shit, she thought, realizing she was still dressed like she had been when she’d left the club. She hadn’t bothered to change her clothing, only to run. She’d been dressing provocatively in hopes to entice tips, not Vinny.

 

Vinny licked his lips, smacking them together and leaving a shiny trail of spit across his upper lip as his eyes moved over her. “Come on doll, I’m friendly,” he said, taking a step towards her. She raised her pan threateningly, trying to ignore the way her arms were shaking. “In fact,” he said, taking another step forward, “I think we should be real friendly with each other.”

 

“Get back,” Felicity threatened. “You need to leave. Now.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Vinny said, and then he lunged. Felicity brought the frying pan down. She’d been aiming for his head, but it missed its target and bounced loudly off his back, out of her hands, and on to the floor. The bang of the cast iron hitting the floor resounded throughout the apartment. Felicity screamed as the world went topsy-turvy and she was thrown to the floor. Pain flashed through her as her head bounced loudly off of the ground, her skull pounding. Vinny shuffled on top of her, his weight pinning her down as his hammy hands moved to grope her breasts through her shirt. He pulled at them, squeezing them in his hand with bruising pressure that made her cry out. Felicity felt bile rise in her throat at his touch. She screamed again, moving to try to push him off of her, and he clamped one of his hands over her mouth.

 

“Shhhhh,” he cooed, his rancid breath filtering over her face. She turned her head, trying to scramble back and away from him. His weight was simply too much. Her eyes widened in terror as he pulled his hand away, moving to replace it with his mouth. His lips pursed and eyes closed in their decent, contorting his hideous face. Felicity reared her head back before slamming her forehead into his nose. She felt warm liquid spray her face as blood sprayed from his nose. Vinny pulled back, clutching his hands to his face, blood seeping steadily between his fingers.

 

“You CUNT!” he screamed. Felicity pushed at Vinny’s body, his lack of hands to support him moved him off kilter until she was able to scramble out from beneath him, splinters from the un-sanded floor digging into her knees as she clambered away, lunging towards the frying pan. Just as her hands felt purchase, she felt Vinny’s arms wrap around her back, hauling her into the air before slamming her into the wall and turning her around to face him.

 

His face was something from a nightmare. He hadn’t been good to look at before, but now his nose sat crookedly on his face, blood gushing out and sticking in his scraggily beard as his breath came wheezing from his chest. “I just wanted to have a little fun and you broke my fucking nose,” he shouted, his hands banding around her arms tightly. She was beginning to feel a loss in circulation. “You owe me bitch,” he said, his eyes shining cruelly.

 

Felicity spat, satisfied to see it land across his bloodied nose. “Fuck you,” she snarled, pulling her chin up defiantly. She refused to give up willingly. She watched as one of his hands reared back with his fist in a tight ball. With one of her arms free, she raised the pan high above her head, praying to God it would land where she wanted this time.

 

It did. He was too drunk to dodge. The pan hit his head with a sickening thud and he slumped to the ground in front of her. Felicity moved carefully, stepping over his body and dropping the pan to the ground once more. She heard footsteps and she glanced to the still open door, her body tensing impossibly more.

 

She relaxed when she saw the hooded figure. He walked into the room swiftly, his bow drawn. She looked at them, her eyes tired. “You’re late.” He moved towards her, relaxing his bow and slinging it across his back before pulling her into his arms. She closed her eyes, letting him press her body into his. She felt safe in his grasp and let her eyes flutter shut and her body relax into his steady hold. His gloved hands rubbed over her back comfortingly.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, not bothering with the voice modulator. “I’m here now.”

 

Felicity nodded into his chest, breathing his scent in through her nose. He smelt like leather, smoke, and something oddly earthy. Something about it was intoxicating. She sighed, pulling back reluctantly. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes to her annoyance. She cleared her throat, trying to stop the way her voice was wavering. “I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Vinny is an asshole. Who knew?
> 
> Hope you guys liked this! I'm trying to get back on the writing train. CHOO CHOO! I want to start updating weekly. Forgot how much I enjoyed writing this. This chapter is kind of a slow lead in, but next chapter will pick up with Oliver and Felicity actually interacting and I am PUMPED. Are you?
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments below! You guys are what keep me coming back and I couldn't do this without your support. 
> 
> XOXO


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished hammering this out. I was too impatient to give it a super thorough read through, so I'm sorry for any errors I missed. It's finals week and I'm proud I made any time to write at all. 
> 
> We finally get to find out part of why Felicity is running!

_Previously: “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes to her annoyance. She cleared her throat, trying to stop the way her voice was wavering. “I need your help.”_

 

Felicity stared up at him under the hood, her eyes trailing slowly over the scruff on his jaw before moving to his eyes. Blue- not green, she realized dully. They were stunningly blue, like the sky the moment the sun pulls over the horizon in the morning. He stared back at her and she felt transfixed as she watched his eyes darken, growing stormier under her perusal. Once again she got the odd feeling he was going to kiss her and found herself yearning for it. He stood back, his hands not quite relinquishing their hold on her, still running slowly over her shoulders while moving so their torsos weren’t touching. She could feel the warmth of his hands through his gloves and it felt like he was stroking little fires beneath her skin. It was a pleasant burn, the warmth oddly comforting. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his face once more. The mask still hid half of it and the hood kept it in half shadow, but this was the best lighting she’d seen him in and there was something oddly familiar about him. She tilted her head to the side. She couldn’t quite place it. In response, he stepped back and removed his hands from her. Felicity heard herself whimper as the warmth of his touch left her, her cheeks heating slightly. She thought she saw him smirk before he moved to pull his hood lower over his face.

 

“What do you need?” he asked, the voice modulator back. Something in her was disappointed. Hearing his real voice as he comforted her had felt… intimate. She’d been vulnerable and he’d let her have a small piece of him. Moving back to this felt too businesslike, like they hadn’t just shared… something. She didn’t know what exactly had transpired between them, but she knew it wasn’t nothing. She sighed, wrapping her arms across her chest tightly.

 

“I- I need to hide. I’m not safe here.” She said, her hands moving to her head, running over her hair as she took in Vinny. “I need to hide until I can figure out my next move, and I need to call the hospital so that he doesn’t fucking die- not because he doesn’t deserve it but because I can’t have another death on my hands. I can’t and I have to…” she paused, pulling her hands from her head and looking at them. Dried blood was spattered on them and up her arms. The started shaking, her breaths coming faster and faster.

 

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward and resting his hand on her shoulder. Her watery eyes met his. “Go wash up. Change. Put your clothes in a trash bag with whatever you’re taking. Keep moving. You can break down later, but right now we need to get you to a secure location.”

  
Felicity nodded slowly, “move, moving,” she said detachedly. Her eyes trailed to Vinny’s body on the ground. A shudder moved through her and she felt the hood’s hand on her shoulder squeeze.

 

“Don’t worry. He’s still breathing. Go. I’ll take care of him.” She nodded, turning towards her bathroom.

 

It was going to be a long night.

***

Oliver looked up, watching as she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was wet and she was drowning in sweats and an oversized t-shirt. The makeup had been scrubbed from her face and her eyes were rimmed red from tears. She looked younger, completely innocent, and he felt something in his chest swell with the fierce need to protect her. Guilt riddled through him.

 

He thought back to earlier. He’d heard the commotion as he made his way up the stairs of the building towards her door. He knew she was in trouble the moment he heard her cry out. He’d ran up the steps at breakneck speed, cursing himself for not hurrying over sooner, but by the time he got there, she’d been holding a frying pan limply and her assailant’s body had been slumped on the floor. Something in him had broken for her, and he’d tried his best to comfort her, not using the voice modulator and pulling her to him. It had been reckless. He’d held her until she stopped shaking and he was happy to do it, but now the lines were blurred and he ached to be away from her.

 

He watched as she gathered her things. She’d already packed, and most of her stuff was together. Oliver glanced down at the man’s body, breathing deeply to keep something murderous from taking over him- the part of him that wanted to leave whoever he was to die for what he’d done. Sighing, he pulled out a burner phone from one of the pockets of his suit. It was untraceable. Dialing quickly, he called one of his more recently acquired contacts. They answered almost immediately.

 

“Dig.” The other line said upon answering.

 

“I’ve got a body. He’s still breathing. They’re civilian- came after some girl but he was drunk and she took him down. He needs to get to a hospital but I can’t be around for that. Can you do something?” he asked, waiting with baited breath. Dig gave the affirmative.

 

“I’m taking the girl to the hideout. She has a couple bags- a suitcase and a backpack. Can you get them, I’m on the bike.”

 

“Text me the location,” Dig said gruffly over the line. Oliver smiled, saying his thanks before slamming the phone shut and turning to Felicity. “Let’s go,” he said, holding a hand out towards her. She looked at it almost timidly for a moment before carefully settling her hand in his.

 

“Where are we going?” She asked.

 

“Somewhere safe.”

***

Felicity’s eyes widened as they left the apartment building. Perched on the curb was a sleek, black motorcycle. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “I’m wearing sweats!”

 

Felicity thought she saw the man under the hood smirk at her before he responded, “And I’m wearing leather.” He moved towards the bike, pulling a small satchel off the back and pulling a piece of black cloth out. He reaffixed the satchel to the bike and then tore the fabric into strips, gesturing for her to come closer. “For where we are going, I’ll need to blindfold you,” he said softly.

 

Felicity crossed her arms in front of her body. “You expect me to not only ride that death trap, but to do it blindfolded?” Her eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for him to respond. He moved closer to her, her breath hitching in her chest as she looked up at him, her neck craning to try and glimpse his face.

 

“You’ll have me to hold onto,” he said, a clear smirk emerging from beneath the hood. She arched an eyebrow in response and crossed her arms.

 

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she said. He moved forward again, his hand reaching out to squeeze her shoulder delicately while leaning down until his breath brushed across her ear and sent shivers running down her back that had nothing to do with the cold air around them. He clicked the voice modulator off before responding: “Trust me, please,” he said softly.

 

Felicity’s eyes jolted to his- blue meeting blue- before she nodded, turning so he could wrap the black material securely around her eyes. His hands guided her on the bike, helping her to climb on behind him. Once she was on, he pulled her arms around his body until he was satisfied she was holding him tightly enough. Her thighs hugged his, clenching in anticipation as the engine flickered to life, revving beneath her and sending vibrations through her core. She gave out an audible gasp but thankfully the engine covered it as it came to life, and they were off.

***

After the motorcycle came to a halt, Felicity remained plastered to his body. Her entire body shook from the exhilaration, the thrill of the wind in her face coupled with not being able to see had both excited and terrified her. Felicity had waited patiently as the hood gathered her into his arms, pressing her face into his chest firmly as he cradled her. Felicity breathed in his scent again, the soft smell of pine filling her lungs and calming her beating heart. She relaxed into his hold, his warmth oddly comforting in the cold. Felicity nuzzled lightly into his chest, smiling when she felt the play of his muscles beneath her fingertips. “You know, for a vigilante you’re pretty cozy,” she said, wishing she could look up at him. “I don’t have other vigilantes to compare with though, so I can’t say for certain that you’re above average.”

 

Felicity felt rather than heard his laugh as it rumbled through his chest. She froze as she heard him open a door and the familiar sound of feet hitting steps, her body jostling slightly as he carried her down them despite his best efforts to minimize the impact of the stairs. Slowly, she felt her body move as he set her down on something cold. His gloved hands moved to her face, trailing one over her cheek almost longingly in a caress before he pulled the blindfold off. “Welcome to my hideout,” he said gruffly, gesturing around with his arms.

 

Felicity blinked a couple times, her eyes struggling to adjust to the change in lighting. The hood stood in front of her where she sat on a long metal table, his hood pulled down severely in the bright light. Turning, Felicity took in the rest of the space. She was certain the room was underground. If the stairs hadn’t been an indication, there were no windows, only grey, concrete walls. The floor and ceiling were concrete as well. In one corner there was a small kitchen. The counters were as bare as the walls. In another corner was a washing machine and dryer. There were accompanying doors that she assumed led to a bathroom and sleeping area. The rest of the room was littered with extensive workout equipment. The gear ranged from the standard that she’d seen in her gym, and stuff that she didn’t recognize. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a rather large table at the far side of the room. It was absolutely covered in weapons. Not just arrows, but swords, ropes, ninja stars, and a bunch of other stuff that she couldn’t quite name but looked dangerous anyway.

 

Her eyes flashed back to his, worry flashing in her mind momentarily as she realized she was underground with a known criminal, no one knew where she was, and he had a plethora of weapons- all of which she was sure he knew how to use. Something about his gaze grew serious. He stepped forward, running his hands over her arms. He moved them slowly up and down a couple times, some of his warmth stroking into her body. Her eyes flashed to his as he spoke. “I will never hurt you,” he said. “Those weapons are only there to protect you. To protect this city.” 

 

Felicity nodded, shame entering her and she looked down. He’d saved her life several times and at the first opportunity she’d immediately thought the worst of him and jumped to conclusions. The hooded man moved, pulling a workout bench in front of the table and taking a seat in front of her. She stared at him as he looked back at her expectantly.

 

“So, I guess this is the part where I tell you why I’m hiding.” He nodded stiffly in response.

 

Felicity let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. If she was honest, it was going to be nice to tell someone, to have someone to shoulder the burden with her. “There’s a group my family is a part of: the Solntsevskaya Bratva.” Felicity looked up as she watched him stiffen. “I see that you’re familiar with them,” she said, her eyes sad.

“I’ve encountered them a few times,” he said roughly, careful not to betray anything with his body language. Felicity stared at him, her eyes narrowing before she continued.

“I have something they want.”  

***

_Eight years ago:_

 

Felicity flew through the air, pain flashing through her as her knees slammed down on the dirty cell floor, the grit tearing her skin open as she felt hot droplets of blood stream down her calves. The metal bars slid shut with a clang, the sound echoing loudly in her ears. Looking over, she saw the outline of her father. He lay limply on the floor of the cell, his normally solid build looking gaunt and drained. Felicity’s hands found her father’s limp ones. Tears swelled in her eyes, blurring her vision and spilling onto her cheeks when she felt his skin was cold and lifeless beneath her fingers. She crawled up his body, sobs tearing from her throat as she saw his face. His usually bright eyes lay open and still. A milky film covered them, making the already pale blue color seem almost white. His neck was covered in dried blood, whatever wound there was crusted over and blackened. “No, no, no…” words streamed from her mouth incoherently.

 

“Felicity,” a male voice cooed from behind her. She turned quickly, leaping into a crouching position, her body defensive. His voice grated her ears, its tone sickeningly sweet. “I see you’ve found your father,” the voice continued. “It’s a real shame. He was one of our better agents until the end,” he said, clucking his tongue idly.

 

Felicity’s sobs quieted, anger replacing her sadness as he addressed her father so casually while his body still lay on the ground beside her. “Why?” she asked, her voice coming out broken and weak.

 

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that dear. Why what?” He looked down on her patronizingly, his eyes roaming over her dirt and blood stained body.

 

Felicity’s eyes narrowed at him. “Why is my father dead? Why hasn’t his body been put to rest? Why am I in this cell? Why did your guards treat me like a prisoner when I am from a respected Bratva family?” She bit out. “Was that specific enough?”

 

The man in front of her chuckled heartily but the emotion did not reach his eyes. They remained cold and unmoving as he stared her down. “The guards said you were spirited,” he muttered. “We’ll have to fix that.” He signaled quickly at a guard she couldn’t see, snapping at him with his fingers to open the door.

 

The door opened with a clang, the guard storming in. Felicity’s eyes widened in fear as the guard thrust the butt of his rifle into her chin with a distinctive crack that snapped her head back until she hit the floor. The world went dark.

*

The next time Felicity woke, she was alone in the cell. She looked around. Her father’s body had been removed, her clothes replaced with a thin hospital gown, and an array of bruises littered her body. She tasted blood in her mouth and pain resonated throughout her entire body, every inch of her throbbing. One of her eyes was swollen shut, but she managed to press her working eye open to examine her body. The exposed skin was covered in bruises. Her normally pale skin was splotched with shades of yellow and purple. Part of her was happy that she’d been unconscious for most of the beating.

 

Felicity collapsed to the floor, unable to move. She didn’t know how long she laid there. Her body formed to the cold, hard floor. It was uneven, and bit into her side. At some point, her entire right arm went numb, but she did not move. She simply laid there and waited for death to come. While it did not, but the guards did. They dragged her to her feet. They told her to walk, but she was beyond caring. She let her feet drag as they pulled her through the halls. She didn’t care that her toes were becoming scraped and bloody.

 

They eventually entered a room and a light was shined in Felicity’s eyes, the brightness forcing her to look away. The silence grew in the room as she waited for something to happen. Finally, a voice rang out. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay,” it called out. Felicity winced. She recognized the voice. It was the same man from the other day. It had the same sickeningly sweet quality. She swallowed the bile she felt rising in her throat.

 

“How old are you?” he asked. When she didn’t answer immediately, he banged his hand on the table, making her jump.

 

“Thirteen,” she bit out. Speaking was unexpectedly difficult. Her jaw had swollen significantly and was stiff to move.  

 

“Good,” he said. “Now your father was involved in some business before he came to his… untimely demise. It involved a flash drive. Where is it?”

 

This time, Felicity didn’t hesitate. “I don’t know.” A man she didn’t see when she came in stepped out of the shadows, his hand striking her cheek sharply, throwing her out of the chair and onto the floor. Felicity screamed as excruciating pain tore across her face. After a moment, he picked her back up and deposited her back in the chair.

 

“I’ll ask again, where is the flash drive?”

 

Felicity spit on the floor. It came out red, her lip splitting painfully from the hit. “I told you. I don’t know.”

 

The man came out of the shadows again, this time holding a Taser. And so it went.

***

“Did you know where the flash drive was?”

 

Felicity snapped back to reality at his words, her eyes taking in the hooded man like he was a dream, her thoughts far away. “Not at the time,” she said, looking down. “That didn’t matter. They held me for what felt like years. I later found out it was only a few months, but they beat me, starved me, and threatened my life every waking minute. Their threats started to sound appealing by the end of it.”

 

She paused as she watched him. He was clearly struggling, his hands curling into fists at his sides. She stood gingerly off of the table, setting her hand against his shoulder before moving to sit next to him. He tensed slightly as she rested her head against his shoulder but relaxed a moment later. “My father’s brother was eventually able to break me out. He and his wife broke into the facility,” she said, her voice far off like she was in a dream. “He lost his life for it, but not before I left for America under a new name- my mother’s last name.”

 

“Wouldn’t the Bratva have known about her?” He asked softly. 

 

Felicity shook her head. “My father’s wife couldn’t conceive. They spent a year in America, where they met my mother. My father loved her. My father’s wife just wanted a child so that she wouldn’t be seen as a barren woman- a failure in the eyes of the mafia. They returned to Russia with me. Only my father’s family knew the secret.”

They stayed silent for a moment. “Where was the flash drive?”

 

“My father put it under my name- my new name- in a security lock box.”

 

He nodded. “What was on the drive?” She looked at him, her eyes meeting his as she spoke.

 

“Records,” she said, her breath rushing out of her. “The Bratva relies heavily on loyalty. They were jeopardizing that by stealing from their members and executing innocent recruits for the benefit of higher ups. In essence, they were screwing over their own team. They didn’t realize that my father was keeping records on the whole thing. He’d planned to expose them with proof of corruption. In the wrong hands, the information would incite a civil war. It would burn the entire establishment to the ground.” She finished, looking at the hooded man to see if he understood the levity of the situation. She had direct access to the downfall of the Bratva. He didn’t speak.

 

“I’ve been getting my degree in computer science. I wanted to get into a position where I could broadcast the records without revealing my- or Raisa’s position. I was close, but I had to leave.” Felicity paused, looking down.

 

“I ran into a Bratva captain. I don’t know if he recognized me, but I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk him finding me and pulling Raisa into it. They have my picture. I’m younger and have brown hair in it, but if he recognized me…” she shuddered. He pulled her against him tightly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

“Why do you care?” she asked. “Why me?”

 

He stared at her for a moment. “I don’t know what it is about you. I feel something pulling me to you,” he said, watching her gulp at his words. Her chest swelled slightly, pleasure filtering through her at the thought that he felt the same pull she did.

 

Oliver’s eyes flared as he remembered of what she’d had to go through. He meant it. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Plus, he of all people could understand having to finish a mission that their dying father left them. He chuckled lightly to himself, the serendipity of the situation hitting him.

 

He pulled back as he realized she was trying to study him under his hood, her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to make out his features.  

 

Fear clenched in his gut as he remembered that to her, Oliver Queen was Bratva. She needed time to calm down before he could reveal to her who he was. He needed her to trust him completely before he laid that information on her. She’d had a long day already, he decided. Soon, they’d be able to talk.

 

Oliver stood suddenly. “I’ll have your things dropped by in the next few hours. Feel free to shower and sleep. You should try to at least rest considering the situation. This is one of the safest places in the city. You should find peace with that knowledge.”

***

Felicity watched him walk away. The door closed behind him with a resounding click that told her he locked it behind him. She sighed. Dual feelings coursed through her. She felt both relieved to be away from Vinny and hollow at her hooded man’s absence. She trusted him completely. She didn’t know who he was but got the feeling he would do anything for her. And something about his eyes made her question everything. When he looked at her she felt everything fade away, like he was peeling away her layers and both saw and understood every part of her. She felt naked with him. It both bothered her that he unearthed her secrets so easily and calmed her that she had someone to share with after all these years. A quiet part of her mind reminded her that there were parts of his gaze that weren’t so calming, that made her want to squirm in her chair and heated her skin. She pushed those thoughts aside.

 

Sighing, she hopped off of the table, turning to examine her surroundings. Sleep could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts! Comments/kudos literally drive me to write whenever I want to stop, delete this story, and pretend it never existed. 
> 
> Good luck to all my friends that are reading this when they should be studying for finals! I too am using this story to procrastinate my real life responsibilities! 
> 
> In addition, this means that I won't be writing a ton this coming week, so please be patient for the week of December 11th-17th because I'm just trying to survive this semester with a decent GPA. If I don't post, it's because I'm getting my life together. I know I said I'd try to post weekly- and I will try- but this is out of my control.


End file.
